Scrambled or Fried
by thespeedfxrce
Summary: "I am capable of making my own breakfast." He frowned from the kitchen table. "And yet you haven't," she deadpanned, matching his tone. "So I ask again, how do you like your eggs?"


This story was written for the Ninth Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as the Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados.

My task this round is as follows:

SEEKER: The Show Must Go On by Queen  
Lyrics used: "The show must go on" and "I have to find the will to carry on"

AU where Tonks meets Remus shortly after the death of his last friend

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.

Thanks to my team for betaing!

* * *

Scrambled or Fried  
**Word Count: 1264**

12 Grimmauld Place was never very homey. A constant draft chilled those who entered, Walburga's portrait screamed at any who passed, and the chipped paint and water stains made it feel abandoned and unwelcoming.

Still, Remus found that he could never look at the place with any negative feelings, not while Sirius had been around.

His best friend could light up even the dreariest of places, which this place most certainly was. Larger than life, Sirius Black filled up the home with laughs, inappropriate innuendos, and his love of life. Azkaban had aged his old friend, but nothing kept Sirius down for long.

Nothing but death.

Remus sat at the kitchen table alone. His mug of coffee now cold and abandoned in his grasp. The dining room table was knocked over the night before when Harry came home, delirious in his rage and grief as he rampaged the house. He would only finally be consoled after he tried, and failed, to rip Walburga Black's portrait from the wall with his bare hands and slumped onto the ground, looking as defeated as Remus felt.

Hermione and Ron had managed to drag an exhausted Harry up to bed. The boy was surrounded by support. As Remus sat alone as the sun peeked through the dusty windows of 12 Grimmauld Place, he thought of how he now had no one.

.

A set of heavy steps walked up the outside steps, and there was a knock at the front door. The sound fell on deaf ears, not that no one answering the door ever stopped Nymphadora Tonks from entering.

The news of the death of Sirius Black had spread quickly through the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore, for all his faults, knew that the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would need to be checked up on. The Headmaster had told Tonks that he was worried for Remus' well being and that he would need a smiling face to buoy him up in this trying time, but she figured he had some ulterior motive. She respected the man greatly, but Dumbledore was always one step ahead of everyone. And she wasn't one to be played.

The first time she saw Remus Lupin in person was at the first Order of the Phoenix meeting she was invited to. As an Auror, and a rather good one at that, she was a valuable new addition to the resistance. Remus had looked knackered then, purple smudges bruising the hollows beneath his eyes, and she expected to find him the same way when she entered the House of Black.

As she turned the corner into the kitchen, the Remus Lupin she found was nothing like the one she thought she knew.

.

Remus' wand shook in his hand as he pointed it at the Metamorphmagus. Grief flooded his senses, a cold burning that pricked at his lungs and stung his eyes, as he watched her raise her hands, showing him she wasn't armed. He wasn't afraid of her, but his heart broke when he finally placed where his grief stemmed from.

He knew Sirius' gait and could recognize it in an instant. Nymphadora's steps were near identical to Padfoot's.

The grief evaporated into anger as he lowered his wand, and she lowered her hands.

"Did Dumbledore send you, Nymphadora?" He felt ages older as he turned his back to her and started making another pot of coffee.

"You can call me Tonks, actually," she said, intentionally not answering his question.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway of the kitchen while he made the coffee the Muggle way, boiling the water on the stove and carefully measuring out grounds Remus sighed, he didn't have any fight left in him to send the young woman away. Although they had never held a conversation with one another unrelated to the Dark Lord, Remus knew she was stubborn and shoot down any request he made for her to leave, so he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. He didn't turn to see if she had noticed, but rather heard her take a seat at the table, adjacent from his.

Pouring the dark liquid into their mugs, he wondered briefly if he should offer her sugar or cream. Even in grief, Remus wasn't one to lose his manners, but Nymphadora took the mug from him without anything more than a soft thank you.

Just as he thought she might sit in silent contemplation with him, she coughed into her napkin promptly after taking a sip of her coffee. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head and smiled. "It's good," she said as she pushed the mug away from her. "Do you often make coffee this way?"

"I see tact is not your strong suit," Remus snipped, sounding harsher than he had meant to but feeling too exhausted to care. "He usually made the coffee."

"He?"

"Sirius."

.

Tonks didn't say anything for a few minutes after that. As quickly as she could, she gulped down the grainy coffee until it was empty. It was easily the nicest thing she had ever done for a bloke; normally she would tell him each and every way he'd messed up, but the shell of a man in front of her got a free pass, at least for now.

"Forgive me for being rude, Nymphadora, but are planning on staying all morning?" Remus placed his mug on the table and looked at her, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Or were you coming by to ensure I hadn't offed myself and now going to report back to Dumbledore?"

The young woman bristled, her hair turning as red as her flushed cheeks. "I was actually planning on staying the entire day, thanks for asking." She stood from the table and opened the pantry, surprised to find it well stocked. She grabbed a carton of eggs and started the stove. "Scrambled or fried?"

"I am capable of making my own breakfast."

"And yet you haven't," she deadpanned, matching his tone. "_Scrambled_ or _fried_?" She repeated her question.

Remus turned to look at her and they battled silently, waiting for the other to bow out first. The older man took a deep breath and took a sip from his coffee, breaking eye contact with her. "Scrambled, thank you."

Grinning at the small victory, she cracked the eggs into a clean bowl and whisked them together.

Once the eggs were thick and creamy, steaming in their pan, she served them each a plate, making sure to pile his with more, his hollow cheeks worried her.

"You're planning on staying the whole day?" He asked partway through his meal.

She fidgeted in her seat. "I'm to take you to meet with the Order. To give your testimony of the events."

"My testimony of the events? We failed. That's my testimony," Remus snapped. He shoved himself away from the table and walked to the window, standing in the light of the early-morning rays, hoping it would ward off the bitter cold from the drafty, old house.

"Remus," a warm hand ghosted over his shoulder and he shivered. "You know what has to happen next."

Goosebumps rippled across his forearms and he knew. "The show must go on," he said bitterly. "I have to find the will to carry on."

"You don't have to do it alone," Tonks said, leaning closer and allowing her hand to rest fully on his shoulder.

He could feel the heat of her body seeping into his, and, for a moment, he could pretend he wasn't as alone as he felt.


End file.
